


sail on by

by AngWrites



Series: James Potter Finds Out [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Marauders' Era, even more gratuitous dance parties, gratuitous classic rock, okay that one was gratuitous, puns, which are not gratuitous they are extremely necessary and deer to my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngWrites/pseuds/AngWrites
Summary: The boys make fake IDs, sneak out of Hogwarts, get Muggle tattoos, prank the whole school, perform illegal magic (lots of it), listen to godless rock music, and win Lily Evans over with talk of turntables and anesthesia. It's more wholesome than it sounds. Also, there's a dance party.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Sail on, silver girl, sail on by._   
>  _Your time has come to shine,_   
>  _All your dreams are on their way._
> 
> \--Simon & Garfunkel, "Bridge Over Troubled Water"
> 
> Inspired rather blatantly by [this tumblr post](http://windandwater.tumblr.com/post/170135179353), because, unfortunately, one thing I don't have in common with James is the ability to make up my own puns. Hopefully you can forgive me.

In retrospect, the only truly surprising thing about the whole affair was that it was Peter’s idea.

Peter, in James’s experience, was not typically an ideas man. When you wanted ideas, creativity, rebellion, and general off-the-wall shenanigans, you went directly to the source of all such notions, which was, of course, Sirius Black. There was no point in asking Peter Pettigrew what he thought, because he generally didn’t.

James supposed that if most people had to guess, they’d say that Remus Lupin was the voice of reason. Those people would be correct—but you’d be a fool to go to him and expect him to talk you out of doing anything.

Sirius had mistaken Remus’s thoughtful frown for disapproval once. He’d rounded on him, about to scathingly deride him for being a wet blanket, when Remus stopped him by saying what he’d been thinking about, which was not all the reasons not to do the thing Sirius had proposed, but rather an incredibly thorough plan on how to actually make “let’s turn all the Slytherin’s scarves pink” actually happen without getting caught. _And_ he’d come up with a way to make sure the smell of roses stayed in their hair for a week.

This was in first year, which was why the plan was…well, it had been a good start, but it would never make it into the Hogwarts Pranks Hall of Fame. Especially not after the things they pulled in their third year. James still got little tingles of joy thinking about Lucius Malfoy’s hat collection that year.

The point was, Sirius never underestimated Remus again.

No, wait. That wasn’t the point.

The point was, Peter had been the one to do all the sneaking around. Yes. That was it. Sirius had ideas, Remus had strategies, Peter had stealth. And James was the incredibly necessary glue that held them all together. The mastermind! The leader!

Also, he had an Invisibility Cloak.

But Peter didn’t sneak into places without being told to first. Oh, he would enthusiastically pounce on an idea—if James or Sirius had it first and everyone was on board with it—and steal as many potions ingredients as they could ever possibly need, or turn into a rat and chew through all the shoelaces in the Slytherin dormitory, or _whatever,_ but he needed direction, and lots of support.

So on January 2, 1977, when Peter Pettigrew rolled reluctantly out of bed and flopped onto the floor and groaned about not wanting to go to class, and his pyjamas rode up a bit and the Marauders all got a good glimpse of the tattoo on his ankle that was an outline of a rat—

Suffice to say that James’s ears were still ringing a week later from Sirius’s shout of indignation and horror and _how dare you get a tattoo without me and also before me, I am ruined, my life is over, what is the world coming to, I am betrayed_ and honestly at that point James had put on his glasses and hit him with a _Silencio_ , if only to stop Remus from beating him over the head with a book (Remus was _not_ a morning person) and the whole affair had ended with a violent-yet-blessedly-silent scuffle.

And then they had gone to breakfast, and to class, and it wasn’t that school was exactly the most interesting of distractions, but Lily had sat down at a desk near him without glaring at him and honestly that drove everything out of James’s head for the rest of the day and he completely forgot to ask Peter what had brought this on, mostly from the amount of effort and focus it took not to start doodling “Lily Potter” all over his notes. Again.

Sirius was not so easily dissuaded. He was just unusually patient.

Which meant, of course, that he waited until everyone was getting ready for bed to tackle Peter to the ground and demand an explanation.

Peter turned into a rat purely on instinct and out of self-defense, naturally, but Sirius was used to this song and dance and grabbed him before he could disappear under the beds for the whole night. Again.

“Not today, Pettigrew,” he growled at the rat he was now holding. “I want answers. _Now_.”

“God dammit,” said Remus, and James had to fight not to snap his eyes to Sirius. He always had interesting reactions to Moony’s sailor mouth, though James would be damned if he knew why. You’d think after six years he’d be used to the contradiction in terms that was Remus Lupin. “Can we not go _one night_ without doing this.”

There was a squeak, and Peter transformed, now bright red with embarrassment. “No,” said Sirius, pointing a finger that was shaking with anger. “ _I must know_.”

“I just…wanted one?” Peter tried.

“ _A likely story_ ,” Sirius snarled. Remus rolled his eyes, and swatted him with a rolled up _Daily Prophet_. A year ago this would have prompted yet another scuffle—this year, all that happened was that Sirius grabbed it, chucked it at him, and Remus batted it away, laughing. Then Sirius turned back to Peter.

Hmmm. Interesting.

Peter groaned. “Does it matter? Really? I got a tattoo, it’s not a big deal, can we move on?”

“That means it’s an embarrassing story,” said James, now fully engaged and sure that there would be no sleep until the mystery was solved.

Sirius grinned, a bit wolfishly. “You’re _right_ ,” he said. “C’mon, Wormtail, let’s hear it.”

“It is a Muggle tattoo,” said Remus thoughtfully. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “It’s easy to tell. Wizards can’t resist putting some kind of magic in their tattoos—to make them move, or change color, or fade under certain circumstances, or all sorts of things. They infuse the spells in the ink ahead of time and it mixes with the magic in the wizard’s own body to create certain effects.”

“Is this another werewolf thing?” said James. “Can you smell magic? What does it smell like?”

“He can sense it sometimes,” said Sirius, flapping his hand dismissively. “Mostly when a place or an object is spelled or infused with it, he can just kind of tell. Some animals can do it too, especially magical ones, and the wolf is definitely a magical animal if nothing else, this is not important, why are we wasting time talking about this, _we need to talk about Peter’s tattoo_.”

James looked at Remus, who shrugged, then back at Peter. “Okay…so what were you doing in a Muggle tattoo parlor on Boxing Day?”

Now they were all staring at him _._ “What?” he said. “It’s obvious! It’s the only day he would have been able to get out without his mum noticing. She always has too much brandy with Christmas dinner, and sleeps all day the next day, and…okay why are you still staring at me, how do you not know this?”

“I don’t remember ever telling you any of that,” Peter said.

“Well, you did.”

“You are terrifying,” said Remus. “Is this why you always pass exams? People tell you something once and your mind clings to it like a vice?”

“I was just really cooped up,” said Peter quickly, before James could respond and descend into bickering. “And, you know, I’ve been crawling around the walls in Hogwarts for the Map, and I kind of missed it, so…”

“You complained every day of those six months you had to climb around in the walls,” said James.

“So you turned into a rat and snuck out. And went straight to a tattoo parlor,” Sirius said over him, waving away the unimportant details.

Peter’s face was bright red again, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Er…not exactly. I mean. Um. Just, you know, hypothetically, if she left the brandy out while she was still sleeping off the hangover…”

It took a minute, but when the light dawned on Sirius’s face, it burst out in a sunrise of glee. “Peter! You _didn’t_!”

“Um.”

“You got drunk and transformed into a rat and snuck out of your house and _got a tattoo_.”

“Um.”

“I can’t believe this!! Why didn’t you tell me!! Would it kill you to send an owl, or take the Knight Bus, or—”

“Why a tattoo, though?” Remus interrupted when he showed no sign of stopping. Because of course he would ask the stupidest question possible—smart bloke, that Remus Lupin, but not very savvy in some ways.

“What else do you do when you’re drunk and sneaking out of the house?” said James.

“Is there any other way to get a tattoo?” said Sirius, at the same time.

Peter just shrugged. “It seemed like the most likely thing to piss her off, if she knew about it.”

He didn’t have the best relationship with his mum, and didn’t need to explain what Christmas had been like to make him want to sneak out of the house and do something likely to infuriate her. They had heard stories about Mrs. Pettigrew before, and could guess.

But there was someone in the room who had it worse.

“Peter,” Sirius said solemnly, “you are an inspiration to us all.”

“Oh no,” said Remus.  
  


The first debate was over whether they should go to a Muggle place, or get a wizard to do it.

Well, technically, and if you asked Remus, the debate was whether to do it at all, but Sirius and James both knew it was a foregone conclusion.

(Actually what Sirius said was, “Let’s just work out the plan and he’ll either get involved just to make sure we don’t fuck it up beyond repair, or he’ll get very invested in it and talk himself into it. Also don’t worry about the other part of it, I have an idea that will talk him round. Once he’s ready to listen.”

“Other part?” James had said.

Sirius had raised both eyebrows at him, apparently surprised he hadn’t already thought about it. “Um? Hello? Furry little problem? We’re getting our Animagus forms, obviously, but in what universe would Moony want a reminder of _that_ on his skin? Not to mention he’d basically be _advertising_ —”

“Especially if it was in a visible place,” said James, realizing. “Damn. I forgot.”

“I’ll handle it,” Sirius had said, and so James had shrugged and not asked questions. Sometimes it was better to let Remus and Sirius work out certain things between them—there were things they understood about each other on a bone-deep level that James would only start to grasp after lengthy explanations. He thought it might be a dog thing.

The thing was, Wizarding tattoos had a whole host of benefits. James could get a deer that _pranced around_ _at will_. It was so cool he could barely handle the possibility. Remus pointed out, because of course he would think about this, that they could be spelled to be resistant to Polyjuice, so anyone pretending to be you would have a big distinctive marker missing. Or you could will them invisible when you didn’t want anyone to see them, and by the way he wasn’t a huge fan of having identifying marks, _friends_ , remember that he’d prefer to retain a certain amount of anonymity—

Sirius patted him on the back. “It’s just ink,” he said. “You could add all that stuff later.”

“Much harder to spell ink that’s already infused in your skin than to do it ahead of time,” Remus said grimly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, the one that meant _oh. A challenge_. Remus responded with a press of his thumb to his forehead, which Remus probably thought meant whatever was said was too stupid to even respond to, but actually meant he was thinking it over.

James grinned. “We’re going to have a much harder time convincing a Wizarding place to take us,” he said. “Me and Remus aren’t seventeen until March, and they’ll want proof of age even if we disguise ourselves.”

“We couldn’t even wait until summer break to do this?” Remus said, to the parchment he was now looking at. He had gone back to pretending to be above this discussion and also writing an essay, but he still had ears, and, apparently, opinions.

“Of course not!” Sirius said, slamming a hand on the table, making everyone but James jump a foot in the air. “This is vital! This is the most important moment of our lives! We must do it at once! _Peter got a tattoo before me!_ This cannot stand!”

“Of course, what was I thinking.”

“What _were_ you thinking, Moony, this betrayal—”

“Muggles want you to be eighteen to get a tattoo,” Peter said, with the kind of let’s-stop-this-argument-now timing that all of the Marauders had perfected, when they weren’t one of the ones arguing.

“ _You_ weren’t eighteen,” Sirius said.

“I’m seventeen, though,” he pointed out. “No Trace. I just Confunded him.”

“While drunk?” said Remus. “Have you ever even managed that spell sober?”

Peter shrugged. “No. But it’s easier on Muggles. They don’t expect it.”

“That’s…slightly worrying, actually,” said Remus. When Peter shrugged, he blinked, then shook his head and looked back down at his parchment.

“I’m seventeen,” said Sirius in the tones of someone determined to barrel through this conversation if it killed him. “I’ll do the spell for you children.”

“Or you could get fake IDs,” said Peter.

“Okay,” said Remus, without looking up. “Someone get us a real one to model them on.”

There was a thoughtful silence.

“Crap,” said Sirius. “He’s right. Who do we know that would have a Muggle ID?”

“Lily Evans,” said James promptly, and ignored his worthless rubbish friends when they all groaned and made comments of “oh god, here we go” and “must you bring her up at every opportunity?” and “for a minute there, I thought he was thinking of something else for once, silly me.” He did not even glare at them. Really. He just said, “What? She probably does.”

“And she’ll definitely loan it to you without getting suspicious,” said Remus. How on earth did he manage to do homework _and_ throw out sarcastic comments? James never could work out his secret. Stupid crafty werewolves.

On second thought, that was probably a skill he’d honed from Six Years Of Living With Sirius Black. Even now, Sirius was carrying on this conversation while diligently and patiently dropping bits of parchment into Remus’s hair and waiting for him to notice. Somehow, without saying a single word, he’d roped Peter into ripping up pieces into confetti under the table and passing them to him.

James didn’t say anything, of course. He was looking forward to seeing what Remus would do when he noticed. He’d never quite worked out when or why Annoying Moony had become Sirius’s favorite pastime, but he did enjoy Remus’s reactions, which were sometimes anti-climactic, but not always.

Sirius probably did too, come to think of it. Maybe that was why.

Back to the topic at hand. “I could steal it,” he said.

“ _No,_ ” said Remus—and Sirius, to James’s surprise—emphatically. They exchanged a look that was full of long-suffering despair, which James thought was distinctly unfair coming from one man with parchment confetti in his hair and another who would set you on fire if you so much as touched his hair.

“James, you want her to _like_ you,” said Sirius.

“Stealing her stuff is not a good beginning,” said Remus. “Even if you could get away with it without her noticing.”

“She would set you on fire,” said Peter, helpfully.

James slumped down in his chair. “I don’t know why I’m friends with any of you,” he said. “You are useless, traitorous, conniving—”

“I’ll just Confund whoever we go to,” Sirius said. “Now, more importantly—”

“Wizarding tattoos probably hurt less,” Peter said, then blinked when they all stared at him. “What? I just thought I’d mention it.”

Remus sighed and shook his head, _hard_ , showering all of them and especially Sirius with tiny bits of parchment, and coincidentally confirming James’s suspicion that he had known all along what Sirius was doing.

Sirius laughed, surprised and delighted, the laugh that was a bit too close to a bark and always had been. Remus casually brushed bits of parchment off his essay and returned to work, but he was smiling—faintly, but smiling.

James grinned, and would have started flinging handfuls of the confetti at Sirius, if Sirius hadn’t been so impressively persistent today. “Doesn’t it depend on the method? There’s enchanted needles and ink, but there are also ways of just doing it with a spell…”

“I’ve heard that burns like hell,” said Sirius, then shrugged when they looked at him. “Noble And Most Ancient House Of Pure-Blood Pricks? You hear things. Of course, there are numbing spells.”

“Why don’t Muggles give you anything for the pain?” he said.

“Dunno,” said Peter. “Didn’t ask. I think I might have blacked out for part of it, if I’m honest.”

“Muggles,” said James dismissively. “They just aren’t as advanced as we are. Anyway, we can probably find our own pain relief spe—”

“You need an actual medical professional to administer anesthesia,” said a new voice, and they all turned to see Lily Evans, looming over them and looking disapproving. “Which would drive up the price and leave tattoo parlors open to lawsuits. Also, said medical professionals are pretty averse to knocking you out except for surgeries and the like, when they absolutely have to, for very good health reasons. Topical anesthesia, on the other hand, isn’t a viable option _yet_ , but it could be soon—if they wouldn’t lessen the tattoo quality, which they might, and next time you have something to say about those backwards Muggles, I strongly suggest reading a book before you speak.”

“How long have you been standing there?” said James, when he could get a word in edgewise.

“How do you know that?” Sirius said at the same time.

“You two have got to stop doing that,” Remus murmured, but no one paid attention to him.

“I came in right around the time the Common Room started snowing parchment,” Lily said. Her voice was dry enough to cure an entire flood-damaged region, though of course her hair and eyes were as lovely as ever, and James stamped down on _that_ thought before it could leave his mouth and get him killed. “And I know that because I started doing some ‘less advanced’Muggle medical training over the summer.”

“You’re going to be a Healer?” James said, honestly interested.

Lily shot him a suspicious look, and relaxed only a bit when he looked back with his most bewildered and innocent expression. “Or a doctor,” she said. “I haven’t decided.”

“You’d go into a Muggle profession?” said Remus. She didn’t look at _him_ suspiciously, James noted, though he tried not to dwell on that train of thought. He was getting better at this self-control thing.

She shrugged. “Maybe. My parents would like it, but maybe I’m also just tired of wizards who think they’re the end all and be all of knowledge in the universe, and would like to learn what the scientific method has to say about the human body.”

Sirius opened his mouth, most likely to say something about scientifically exploring human bodies that would have had him sprouting boils all over his own body for the next three weeks, and even McGonagall would probably say it was deserved. Remus kicked him under the table. He shut his mouth, and tried to hide the fact that his eyes were watering in pain.

James let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and nodded slightly at Remus to acknowledge his “you’re _welcome_ ” expression. “What have you learned so far?” He said politely, and then a thought struck him. “And how did you know that stuff about tattoos specifically?”

At this—and James never would have believed it if he hadn’t seen and heard it with his own two eyes and ears—Lily smirked, and her (stunning, green, glorious pools of emerald beauty) eyes glinted mischievously. “I asked my tattoo artist,” she said. “Good luck, gentlemen.”

And then she was gone.

A hush, appropriately, fell over the table. Sirius was the one finally to break it.

“Please convince her to date you,” he said. “I want her in our group.”

“You could try just being her friend,” said Remus. “Talking to girls isn’t contingent on your best friend dating them.” He paused. “Or you dating them, for that matter.” He was smiling faintly again, for some reason.

James didn’t fully understand why _that_ got a snort out of Sirius, or an absurdly fond look aimed at Remus. “Somehow I think James will have more luck convincing Lily Evans to like him than I would,” he said. “And you know I’ll never date a woman again, Moony, I’ve given that up.”

Remus’s expression was unreadable, at least to James. “Oh? And why’s that, Pads?”

Sirius sighed his best dramatically burdened sigh. “I just break their hearts,” he said. “They can’t take being with someone whose hair is so much better than theirs.”

Now Remus was _really_ smiling, and not the faint “I’m pretending I don’t know what a little shit I’m being” one, or the “I am enjoying your pain and you deserve this” one. It looked similar, but you could tell by the crinkling around eyes that he was really laughing. That, and Sirius was beaming. “That does explain a lot,” he said, and picked one final piece of parchment out of his hair, to flick at Sirius. It landed right on target in his hair. Sirius did not shake it out. He didn’t throw a “how dare you touch my hair” tantrum, or _anything_. What. “I’m sorry your life will be so lonely.”

James looked at Peter, to see if he could also tell that there were two conversations going on here, and one was a secret that they were not a part of. Peter looked back at him, blankly.

Hmmm. He would have to figure this one out on his own, then.

“So it’s agreed,” he said, and everyone seemed to snap out of it, whatever “it” was.

“What is?” said Peter.

“Muggle tattoos,” James said, with finality. “We can handle pain, gentlemen. We’ve all had worse before. We can handle Muggle bureaucracy. Sirius and Peter are both real adults who can use magic to trick people without consequences! What we cannot handle is Lily Evans being tougher than me, or not telling me where her tattoo is or what it is, or—”

“James,” said Sirius, Peter, and Remus, together.

“What? What was I talking about?”

“Why going to a Muggle place is somehow a good idea,” said Remus. He and Lily probably practiced sounding dry and unamused in the mirror. Maybe one of them would teach him someday.

“Right. Well, it would send Padfoot’s mum into a raging fit. If she knew.”

“That’s _true_ ,” said Sirius immediately. “You’re right as always, Prongs. Muggle parlor it is.”

“I’m sold,” said Peter. “If I had to suffer through it, so do you lot.”

“Didn’t you say you were—never mind,” said James. You had to pick your battles, with this group.

“Has anyone noticed that I still haven’t agreed to this?” said Remus, apparently to empty air, because they all ignored him.

Well, not entirely. Sirius grinned at him, wolfishly, which made Remus sigh, roll his eyes, and go back to pretending to do homework again.

His ears were a bit red, though.

And James had seen red ears like that before.

He smiled to himself, just a little. So Sirius and Remus were keeping things from him, and thought they were being stealthy about it?

This was going to be _so interesting_.  
  


The plan was simple: blackmail one of Lily’s friends, and get her to tell James where her tattoo was.

Wait, no. _No_ , he told himself sternly. All of Lily’s friends were terrifying and could easily take him down even if he did have dirt on them, which he didn’t. Also, blackmail was wrong. Also, he wasn’t going to stalk Lily Evans anymore. Really. No, _really_.

The _real_ plan, the actual plan that James was actually going to use to get a tattoo and not stalk Lily Evans—no, _really_ —was simple. They would sneak into Hogsmeade, disguise themselves with one of the multitude of appearance-changing spells that they’d all gotten good at after six years of mischief at Hogwarts, take the Knight Bus, and boom, illegal tattoos, easy.

Remus had sighed the sigh of a thousand disappointed professors when he heard this, and pointed out the blindingly obvious flaws: where were they going to go, and what designs were they going to get?

So they were stalled a little bit, in what Remus called the “research and development” phase, and what Sirius referred to as “fucking kill me just kill me let’s set something on fire why do we have to do this I am literally dying, Moony, do you see these gray hairs you’re giving me, _do you_.”

James got him to be quiet by promising to find out who Lily’s tattoo artist was. Which was the real reason he was considering blackmail, because there was no way she would ever talk to him. Sirius had pointed that out, too, so really they had agreed to make Remus ask her, and for that, they had to convince him to go along with the plan.

Which was Sirius’s problem, and _that_ was what actually got Sirius to shut up and focus.

Anyway.

Designs were easy. Peter had to draw them. He had drawn the design for his own tattoo, after all, and it looked fine. James had been heavily impressed that he’d drawn it after having too much of his mum’s brandy, but it turned out it was a drawing he’d had for a while, and he had just brought it with him.

It occurred to James, dimly, that most people probably didn’t doodle rats in their spare time. With a few extremely talented exceptions, most impulsive doodlers stuck to flowers or the occasional stick figure.

(Talented exceptions, of course, included the likes of Lily’s friend Mary, who had once doodled an impressive caricature of Professor Binns that got passed around the whole school until she started getting requests. She charged a Sickle to do ones of people and their friends. James still had the one of him somewhere.)

But that wasn’t the point. The point was, most people were incredibly boring.

Most people also probably didn’t sneak around after-hours trying to catch their best friends alone, to find out if and how much they were snogging. And yet, here he was. He had been following these two idiots for a week and had no results to speak of, other than the discovery that Remus and Sirius were _really really weird_. 

For example, the second day of following them he found out that they had a secret spot on the roof—which, first of all, how dare they, why didn’t he know about this sooner—and they didn’t even use it to light things on fire in private. No, they just went up there with a flame in a jar for warmth, bundled up in coats, and laid on the roof looking at the stars. Sometimes Sirius’s head was on Remus’s shoulders, but that was as close as they got.

Also, they always went at an hour when the moon wasn’t visible from that part of the roof.

They rarely talked, too, except very quietly, and usually things like “Is that my sweater?” “…yes.” “(heavy sigh) Do you have to do that?” “Well, your sweaters are warm.” “You’re a prick.” and then…more silence.

What the hell.

James had never known Sirius to sit still for more than five minutes at a time, and even then he was a fidgety fucker. In what universe did he and Remus just hang out _being quiet_ together?!

And it got worse. He had hunkered down in a corner of the Common Room under the Invisibility Cloak one evening when Sirius and Remus were there, and they had talked that time, but it had been an extremely animated and detailed discussion about a book they had both read.

A _book_.

All while playing Exploding Snap, to be sure, but they just ducked out of the way of random explosions and carried on like nothing had happened.

And then it had derailed into politics, and the current state of affairs in the Wizarding world, and _Lily_ of all people had walked past and got pulled into the discussion, and Remus dealt her into the game without even asking. Then it turned out she had read the book too, and they all discussed this together, and Sirius didn’t even seem to mind when she called him a close-minded Pureblood twat and explained what a “movie” was. Then he asked if she had any more ballpoint pens he could borrow, whatever _that_ was. Since when did Lily loan Sirius Muggle things?! Was this how Sirius had gotten his hands on that book about Muggle motorbikes that he wouldn’t shut up about??

James did want to see one of these moving picture things now, based on her description. Something called a “Western” sounded especially promising. Lily rambling about something else with a doctor and a phone…box? Did he hear that right? in it was less exciting, but she had seemed insistent that it was brilliant.

Also, they didn’t even talk about him. At all. What was the point of spying on your best friends hanging out with the girl you had a crush on if they didn’t gossip about you?!

He ran through that sentence in his head again, to see if there was anything creepy about it, and decided there was not. All good.

Anyway. Tonight Remus and Sirius had disappeared together, again, but this time it was to an empty classroom. _Much_ more promising.

And this was how James Potter found himself lurking in the shadows outside of the Arithmancy classroom at 9:00 at night on a Thursday, when most people were in their Common Rooms or the Library or anywhere else in the castle that wasn’t dark and shadowed and lonely . 

He did _not_ question his life choices. They were working out brilliantly, as a matter of fact. He could hear almost every word and see almost everything (though they were half-hidden in flickering shadows—flickering because the only light was Sirius’s wand, and he was twirling it absentmindedly between his fingers) they were doing.

Sirius was sitting on the teacher’s desk, legs propped up on a chair in front of him, bending forward or leaning back as the mood took him. Remus was standing, leaning on the desk, smiling his faint “I can’t believe I’m even listening to this but it’s entertaining so I’ll stick around” smile. James knew it well, even in this half-light that danced around more erratically than a candle flame in the wind. He wore it around them a lot, but especially around Sirius.

“I’m just saying that if you got it somewhere discreet, no one would ever even see it. Well…mostly no one.” James couldn’t be sure, but Sirius was probably smirking. Damn! Why didn’t they light a lamp or something? How was he supposed to analyze their every move like this? He shuffled a bit closer, peering into the darkness.

“And if I had to go to hospital? Or see a Healer at all? Which, I’ll remind you, are things I have to do often enough, even with you lot helping me.”

“We’ll enchant it to fade under certain circumstances,” Sirius said. “It could even be a proximity thing, for when you’re not around us—I heard someone talking about tattoos that do that recently.” His face darkened, if that was possible, even further. “I don’t know why. It was at Grimmauld Place—you know, before I—well.” He stopped, but Remus nodded—he didn’t need to say it. “And anyway, Regulus shut up the minute he saw me so—nothing good. But still.”

Remus huffed a breath out through his nose and leaned back on his elbows a bit, brushing Sirius’s side just barely. “You don’t think we’re attached at the hip enough already? We need marks on our bodies that fade when we’re away from each other?”

Sirius snorted, dark mood banished instantly. “Well, whatever. Maybe just Healers, or anyone you don’t want seeing it. Consent is something we can work into the spell, right? And hey, your hip’s a good place, by the way.” He grinned sidelong at Remus. “ _I’d_ like it, anyway.”

“Would you really.” Remus sounded unimpressed, but he was smiling. Not a faint smile, or the secret-laugh smile, but a fond smile.

James had never seen that one.

Which meant it was a smile just for Sirius.

He was suddenly deeply uncomfortable, and wished he was _literally anywhere else_ right now. Why did he think this was a good idea?

Sirius turned to face Remus now, and he didn’t say anything, but something in his face must have spoken volumes. Remus dropped his eyes away. “I’m still not keen on the idea of—well, basically advertising.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Sirius. “I know you didn’t like the idea of a paw, even if it’s a dog print—” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Like I said, advertising. It’s not like most people would know the difference, and I want to steer them far far away from canines and moons and such.”

“Right. No moons, no dogs. But look at the design I had Peter do for me.” He pulled a piece of folded parchment out of his robes and handed it over.

Whatever was on it, Remus wasn’t immediately on board with it. “A dog howling? You do realize any sort of howling is _really_ out, Padfoot, we’re going for _more_ subtle, not less—”

Sirius took Remus’s hand, and Remus shut up immediately. Oh god, Sirius had _taken Remus’s_ _hand_ , what the hell, this was too much—

“What’s it howling _at,_ though?” He said, voice very low now. He was tracing something on the back of Remus’s hand, oh god, what was James’s life, he needed to leave, _right now_.

“I told you, I’m not putting a full moon anywhere on my body.” This should have been said much more angrily than the way Remus said it, and he _wasn’t moving his hand_.

“No one would have to know it was a moon, if it was just a circle. And we could even cut it in half—so it’s waning. Flip it sideways, so the line’s on the bottom and there’s no reason to think it’s anything but a half circle, whatever you want. You and I would be the only ones that knew, and if anyone else found out they’d never know what it meant.”

Remus flipped his hand over, and laced their fingers together. “So you want the other half of your tattoo on my hip,” he said. “And you want it to be a moon that Padfoot and Moony will never run under together.”

There was a loaded silence.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds incredibly sappy and a little sad,” said Sirius after a minute. He should have sounded sarcastic and flippant.

He didn’t.

He didn’t break eye contact with Remus.

Remus looked like he was going to roll his eyes. He didn’t. He tugged Sirius forward, closing the distance between them.

James didn’t know what happened after that. Nope, he had no idea whatsoever, he was shutting his eyes and not looking and definitely not listening to any _noises_ that might have ensued.

It was only when he opened his eyes and saw Lily Evans, of all people, standing right there and staring at him, that he realized that somewhere in the process of flinging his hand over his eyes and pressing himself against the wall next to the classroom door, the Invisibility Cloak had fallen off. 

Thank god Sirius and Remus were too occupied to notice, and their eyes were probably closed, seriously, thank _god_. He grabbed the cloak and bundled it up before Lily could see it—luckily it folded up small.

“Oh hello Lily,” he said as he did this, quietly, and as nonchalantly as he could manage. 

“James,” she said, still staring at him. “Do I even want to know what you’re during lurking in the hallway outside the Arithmancy classroom right before curfew, in the dark?” 

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. When her glare didn’t let up, he rolled his eyes, grabbed her arm, and pulled her closer to the wall, ignoring her noise of protest. “I’m spying on Remus and Sirius, okay? And if they hear us they will kill us so take it from someone who’s been sneaking around Hogwarts for six years, stay here and be quiet.” 

“You’re what?” she said, but at least she said it softly. “Why are you—what?!” 

“They’re keeping things from me. And I wanted to see how big of a thing it is, or whether it’s just a casual small thing that will go away after a while and never become a big serious lifelong thing.” 

There was a long pause. Lily was squinting at him. “What?” she said again, finally, like she still wasn’t sure whether to take points away or hear him out. 

“Er…” James mentally backtracked through everything he had said, and came to a very hasty conclusion. “I’m actually…I don’t know if I should tell you. Now that I think about it.” 

Now she was looking at him thoughtfully. “Well, if it’s that kind of thing,” she said, slowly, as though she was choosing her words very carefully, “I think maybe you should…well. You should let them keep it from you. Maybe the thing they’re keeping from you won’t be a big deal forever but it is a big deal to them right now, and is very personal, and you should let them tell you in their own time.” 

James didn’t know what affect she thought her words would have on him, but what actually happened was that waves of relief washed over him like a freaking rainbow after a storm. Or something. He wasn’t good at poetry, that was Remus’s thing. “You know about it too? Praise Merlin, they’ve been driving me mental and I can’t talk to anyone about it, Peter is about as observant as a stale potato. Who do they think they’re fooling, anyway?” 

“Potatoes don’t go stale,” said Lily, as though that was the point. 

“Okay, but seriously, Lily, look at them.” He pulled her into a deep, deep shadow across from the classroom, so she could see without being seen. They were done snogging, thank god and Merlin and Dumbledore and everyone in between, James wasn’t good at religion, but they were still talking quietly (he caught the words “you’re a fucking idiot,” said way, way too fondly), and looking at each other. And touching. Remus was standing between Sirius’s legs with his arms on Sirius’s shoulders and he was smiling and Sirius was holding his waist and oh god why. 

James couldn’t read Lily’s face. He hadn’t been allowed to get very close to her for long enough to learn her expressions, or honestly, paid enough attention other than to figure out what she looked like when she was about to hex him so he could run. But when she turned to him, grabbed him, and pulled him away from the classroom, back into the shadows, he had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. 

“Right?” he said. 

She sighed. “I don’t suppose I can convince you this is none of our business?” 

He stared. What? They were his best friends, of course it was—what? 

“James,” she said, sighing. “My Prefect rounds are about to start, and you’ll be out after curfew. I should take points away, but I won’t if you come back to the Common Room with me, okay? You probably don’t want to see whatever they’re going to do next anyway.” 

That took a minute to sink in, but when it did he shuddered. “Good lord, you’re right. Okay, I’m coming, let’s get out of here.”

They didn’t talk on the way back. James was deep in thought, and whatever Lily was thinking, she didn’t say. He said “good night” to her distractedly, and went back up to the dormitory, and managed to spend an entire five minutes there without panicking about the fact that he’d just had a serious conversation with Lily Evans without her sneering at him even once, had walked with her back to the Common Room, and she’d _let him off without taking points_.

When the panic did hit, he had to lay down on the floor for several minutes, telling himself to breathe. Peter found him like that, and didn’t ask—just handed him a scone he’d nicked from the kitchen.

“Peter,” James said, “You are my only true friend. You are a life saver, a savior of life. Have you been knighted yet? Why haven’t you been knighted?”

“Dunno,” said Peter, who never quite knew how to respond to James’s dramatics. “You feeling okay?”

“I am in _deep distress_ ,” James said. “But you have made it better, my friend.”

“You’re welcome? Where are Sirius and Remus?”

James kicked his traitorous brain before it could provide him with any images that would have him rocking in the corner for a week. “No idea. None at all. No…no clue. How are you, Peter? How are things? School going okay?”

Peter gave him a weird look and then, evidently deciding it wasn’t worth his time, shrugged. “Actually I need help on my Potions essay? I was going to ask Remus, but…”

“Capital!” James cried, seeing salvation and grabbing it with both hands. “Let’s look at it together! Homework! Just what I need right now!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am not, Peter, I really am not. Lily Evans _said good night to me_.” Yes, focus on that. Focus on that and not the rest of the weirdness of this entire weird evening.

“Ah,” said Peter, light dawning. “Well. I’ll get my notes.”

James very much _did not notice_ that Sirius and Remus got back to the dorm an hour and a half later, did not wonder whether they’d stayed in the classroom or gone somewhere else, and _definitely_ didn’t think about whether they’d continued the tattoo conversation.

He did feign ignorance when Sirius told him it was done and Remus was convinced—on the one condition that they never ask him where the tattoo was, or what it was, for the sake of plausible deniability. James would just have to pretend not to know, ha ha, what tattoo, Moony doesn’t have any tattoos, no sir.

So now he just had to wait for Remus to talk to Lily. Who had actually had an entire conversation with him. Without trying to flay him alive.

And he had to not freak out in the meantime.

Yeah.

_Yeah._  
  


James did _not_ pass out in shock when Lily Evans came in to breakfast the next morning and sat down right across from him as though nothing at all unusual was happening.

He _didn’t_.

He did stare at her with his mouth hanging open until she raised an eyebrow and asked him if he was trying to catch flies that way, at which point he scrambled to look nonchalant and suave and accidentally put his elbow in the butter dish.

Yes. Yes, he was the epitome of suave. Oh, god.

“I just—uh. Um.” He rallied, rather impressively, he thought. “I just, hello, Miss Evans, I wasn’t expecting to see you at this early hour. Come here often?”

Lily didn’t even bother to roll her eyes, just picked up a piece of toast, rescued the butter from his elbow, and started to butter it from the side that was un-elbowed. “I liked it better when you looked like a broken frog.”

James sighed. It was too early for this, anyway. His brain was all scrambled and he couldn’t manage suave right now. Maybe she would forgive him for not being his usual excellent self, in time. “Flies are disgusting. I prefer to fill my mouth with eggs,” he said, and did so. Then winced, because Sirius would have made a truly horrific joke at that, and he would have deserved it.

Lily just raised an eyebrow. “If you say so,” she said, taking a bite of toast. God, she could even eat toast at arse o’clock in the morning and look beautiful doing it. It was so, so, _so_ unfair. Everything about Lily Evan’s existence was oppression.

Luckily, before he could say that out loud and end up hexed for his trouble, she spoke first. “Where is your usual herd this morning? And come to think of it, what are you even doing up this early?”

“Went to bed early,” James admitted. “They were acting like nothing had happened, I couldn’t look them in the face. And if I had to help Peter with Potions for any longer my brain was going to turn to goo and leak out all over the floor and McGonagall would give me detention for the rest of my life for getting brain goo all over the dormitory.”

“Send him to me, I’ll help him,” Lily said, as though it was nothing, which it was, because she was some kind of Potions genius and she and Snivellus had been in friendly competition that made his skin crawl for five years, except now it was unfriendly because they weren’t speaking for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, not that he was stalking her and her relationships, because he wasn’t. Anyway.

“He’s terrified of you,” James informed her, helping himself to some toast now, and trying very hard not to bring up Snape. “But if I give you his essay and we don’t tell him who looked over it until afterwards, he might get over the shock.”

“A good plan,” she said, almost—he couldn’t believe it—actually smiling. Oh god, he was lightheaded. Getting an appropriate amount of sleep and waking up early had made him lightheaded and he was hallucinating, he was never doing this again.

“I am good at those,” he said, for lack of anything better to say. They were still mostly alone in the Great Hall, and the emptiness was a sincere blessing, because no one else could witness this disaster of a conversation, but he also deeply wished there was something to distract him from it. A food fight, or a massive firebomb. Or _something_. A dance party! Why hadn’t they had a dance party in the Great Hall yet? Why did dance parties never break out when you desperately needed them?

“Mm,” she said. “What was that about not being able to look at your friends?”

“You mean the extremely awkward giant elephant in the room that they don’t know I can see?”

Lily just looked at him.

“Uh…it’s very weird? I don’t know what you’re asking? Please tell me what you’re asking, there’s a reason Peter is terrified of you, oh god, what did I do—”

“Dear lord,” she said, except she said it like she was fighting back a laugh, so maybe it wasn’t that bad? “Calm down, Potter, I’m just wondering what’s wrong. Is it really that strange?”

Something in her voice made him look at her a little more closely, and when he thought he understood he almost recoiled in horror. “What, because—? Because they’re both blokes? What?! No! No, they’re my _friends,_ what do I care who they—I mean, Sirius’ family is the sort to throw a fit over that, at least give me credit for being better than _that_.”

“Oh well, at the very least,” said Lily. She sounded like she was laughing at him again, which was an improvement at least over her vague disapproval.

In order to avoid dwelling on this, James plowed on ahead. “It’s just—shit, I think, I think it might be serious? And Sirius is never serious, don’t say he’s only ever serious about being Sirius, see, I do it better.” He was babbling, but that was preferable to facing Lily’s disapproving eyebrow in silence, so he forged on ahead. 

“He’s always Sirius about things but he’s never _serious_ about anything, and Remus—Remus! What is Remus doing? I’ll have to flay Sirius alive if he hurts him, seriously, which is weird because he’s my best friend, but _if he does anything to Remus_ —and holy crap this is is a big serious deal and they haven’t even told me yet! Lily! What am I supposed to do!!”

Lily squinted at him. “Are you capable of not making that joke? I’m just curious.”

“In all seriousness, I very seriously am not,” said James.

She actually snickered. She was trying not to, but she did. James felt like his chest was filling up with sunshine, and he was going to float off into the atmosphere—okay, maybe metaphors weren’t a good idea this early in the morning. But somewhere in this diatribe he had forgotten that he was talking to _Lily freaking Evans_ , and when he remembered again he had to think over everything he’d just said, and. And. Oh god. What had he been rambling about? Had he really made the serious Sirius joke that many times? What was he thinking, of course he had, but still. He was on the verge of disappearing into a puff of shame, but she didn’t seem to notice his mortification? She was still smiling? This whole morning was definitely a fever dream, what the hell.

“Sirius takes his family very seriously,” Lily said, somehow with a straight face. “At least in that he’s also very serious about not being like them. And he likes motorbikes. And Muggle music.”

“That’s _true_ , he got his hands on a Lead Blimp record and—why are you laughing. Lily, what did I say. You have to tell me, I’ll never learn otherwise, come _on_.”

“Led Zeppelin,” she said through her wheezing. “Spelled L-E-D—oh god, give me a minute.” When she was finished wiping her eyes, she said “Well, I’m glad to know he liked it anyway.”

People were filtering into the Great Hall now, which was a fact James was trying very hard to ignore, because one of the people coming in was Lucius Malfoy, and he was sneering at both of them. Apparently having fun wasn’t allowed around Slytherins—but luckily he didn’t say anything, and Lily didn’t notice, so James subtly shifted his wand into his hand under the table, smiled at Lily, and tried to stay casual.

“Oh yeah, he’s been singing ‘Black Dog’ nonstop for months now,” he said. “We can’t get a record player to work at Hogwarts so we have to put up with his godawful voice and it’s driving me mental and he’s _not funny_ and I—wait.” Lily’s words had caught up with his brain. “You gave him that record?”

“Why is him singing Black Dog not funny?”

“Dog star, last name Black? Least clever joke ever? And they tell me you’re smart,” said James quickly, before he blurted out an answer that began with “so, we became illegal Animaguses a year ago” and end with a term in Azkaban. “Anyway, I asked first.” 

It was the best timing ever or the worst—because yes, another person came in the room, of _course_ he did. Nothing could ever be perfect, could it?

Snape was walking right past them, and he wasn’t just sneering. There was a dark look on his face, and _god_ , how dare he look at Lily like that. James’s fingers itched to hex him, and he would’ve done it, right then, except Lily got there first.

She didn’t hex him. She didn’t even say anything. She just _looked_ at Snivellus, with a look James knew all too well, the one that could shrivel a man’s balls if he dared to get too close.

James relaxed his grip on his wand. He didn’t want to be caught with it.

Snape turned his glare on James, briefly, but he looked down quickly at his food, and shoved way too much in his mouth, and started coughing.

This was extremely awkward, but far less awkward than the glaring had been. Snape broke his gaze with a sneer and swept away, while Lily, with alarm, drew her wand and said, “ _Anapneo_ ,” effectively dislodging the food and the unpleasant aura of Slytherin.

“Thanks,” said James, when he was done wiping his eyes. “Er—”

“Don’t,” said Lily. Her face was stormy now, which was a pity. He’d liked making her laugh, even if it had been at his expense.

“He’s filth,” James said, for lack of anything better to say.

“He _isn’t_ ,” Lily snapped, and at the look on his face, rolled her eyes, sighing. “Don’t, James. You can’t—you won’t get anywhere if you assume anyone who doesn’t like you is trash.”

“He _is_ a prick, though,” James argued. “It’s not just about me—no, don’t say it. Who is he to say the way you were born makes you better than other people? That kind of person _is_ trash, no matter who they like or don’t like.”

Lily just looked at him. “Don’t you think the same thing about Muggles versus wizards?”

It was his turn to stare. But he couldn’t deny it, she’d caught him saying almost exactly that just yesterday. “I—didn’t mean it like that,” he said, finally, without much heat.

“No,” said Lily. “I know. But you still think it. You have a lot to unlearn, you Purebloods.”

“There are still things I would never do,” he said, and swallowed, hard. “Words—words I would never say.”

“Congratulations,” she said drily. “You’ve mastered basic human decency. Would you like a medal for it?” She sighed again. “Look, you mean well, and that means a lot, but—tell me you wouldn’t do magic in front of a Muggle and then Obliviate them just because they were nearby. You’d take away their memory, just like that, because you can and they would never know.”

“Well—yes, Muggles can’t know about wizards, we have to protect ourselves—”

“We can do _magic_! Protect ourselves from what? And even if you did have something to fear from them, what about helping them? Would you ever use your magic to heal Muggle wounds, save Muggle lives? Or is it only for wizards and no one else?”

“It would violate the Statute of Secrecy…”

“Oh, _laws_ ,” said Lily. “Yes, you’ve always cared about following rules, haven’t you?”

Something about her voice, maybe there was an edge to it—made James stop. He sat back, looking at her, but also thinking. “I don’t think they’re lesser,” he said after a minute.

“No, you just act like they are.”

“How do I stop?” said James, genuinely curious.

She blinked, as though shocked. “You’re not taking the piss, are you? Trying to placate me?”

“No,” said James. “I mean it. How do I stop?”

“Um,” said Lily, who apparently was not prepared for this turn in the conversation.

Strange.

“Did I put you on the spot?” said James. “Has no one asked you this before?”

“Usually they’re telling me they _know_ , and to stop harping on about it already,” Lily admitted.

“Hmmm,” said James, thinking about the startled look on her face and her tight, well-rehearsed words. “So…listening. Listening is good?"

She actually smiled. “Shockingly,” she said. “Also maybe start thinking about Muggles like they’re real people. And how to treat them that way. The way you’d treat wizards.”

“Wizards that aren’t Snape, you mean,” said James.

“Right,” she said. “And, uh—I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset about—words. Things that they do. It makes me angry too, you know.”

“Is _that_ why you quit talking to each other? Thank god, because—”

“It’s none of your business,” Lily snapped. “But quit acting like you have the moral high ground when some things you do are bad in their own way.”

“But Lily,” he said, because this conversation was getting too serious and he had his dignity, dammit, “my sh—farts _do_ smell like roses, and everything I do _is_ perfect.”

She threw a roll at him, which he ducked, and she actually _laughed_. “I thought you were supposed to be a good Chaser,” she said.

“I don’t catch _Bludgers_ ,” said James, with dignity.

“The House Elves would be hurt,” said Lily. “Talking about their cooking that way.”

“Don’t tell them,” James retorted, then changed the subject quickly, before he could say something stupid about her eye-crinkles when she laughed. “But, listen, this is important, so you’d best be honest with me, Evans.”

She raised an eyebrow, so he rushed on before she could say something scathing.

“How did you conspire to give Sirius Muggle music behind my back?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but the mood had lightened considerably. “Yes, I talked to your friend when you weren’t there, try to recover.”

“No, I—what? I know that part, what are you talking about?” He did _not_ choose to disclose that he had found it out by spying on them in the Common Room. “I just meant, do you know where we could go to get more? Do you maybe have any ideas on how to get a record player to work at Hogwarts? Do you like music? What kind of music do you like? Do you—”

“James!” Lily said, but she was laughing again. “All right, I give in, but one at a time. Yes, I know a few good record stores in London, I can tell you the names. If you’re anything like Sirius you won’t like my music, he’s all KISS and Led Zeppelin and I’m more of a Simon and Garfunkel kind of—what am I saying, you don’t know what these words mean.”

“I’m taking notes,” James said, then thought about it. “…D’you have a quill so I can take notes?”

“I have a pen,” Lily said, producing a stick that was definitely not feathered, and he saw no sign of an ink bottle.

“Er…”

She sighed. Heavily. “It’s like a quill, but for Muggles, and it’s better. Never mind, I’ll write it down for you.”

“What? No, I want to learn, after all there are so many things Muggles have that we don’t. Teach me the ways of this pen technology.”

“Later,” said Lily. “Breakfast is almost over, and you lot always come in at the last minute. Your friends will drag you away before you can properly master the technique.”

James brain froze to a screeching halt, _again_ , unable to decide what to panic about first: the fact that she’d observed him and his eating habits, or the fact that there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye, like she was teasing him. _Teasing him_.

“Oh god,” he said out loud, before he could stop it.

“What?”

“Er—nothing. Write for me the ways of your music with your mystic pen,” James managed.

“Yes. And record shops. Actually the best one is right by the tattoo parlor I go to,” she said, casually. James wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. His heart was going to give out.

“That’s right,” he said, trying not to sound strangled, “you mentioned something about that yesterday. Uh—I didn’t—I didn’t know you had a tattoo? Or an artist for it?”

“Two,” she said, absentmindedly, scribbling away on a piece of spare parchment. “I have two tattoos. My artist is good—his name is Keith, tell him I sent you and he _might_ give you a deal—you have to be careful about where you go but I can vouch for him.” She looked up at his astonished face. “What? You’re thinking about getting a tattoo, right? And trying to decide between a Muggle and wizarding one, but you can get the Muggle one sooner without having to prove your age. Because magic against helpless Muggles is so easy. Am I right?”

James stared. He couldn’t help it. 

He did, however, have a reputation to protect. And it was…a _good_ reputation? He wasn’t quite sure how to do that, but he had to try. “What, no, we weren’t going to Confund anyone, I was going to make an ID, actually.”

“Is that so,” she said, entirely unconvinced. 

“Well, isn’t that what you did?”

She raised both eyebrows at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, you’re seventeen too, and you have to be eighteen. You changed the year on your ID, didn’t you?”

She looked down at her parchment again, but there was a smile pulling at her lips. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,” she said, with a great deal of dignity for someone who was a stone cold _liar_. “I am literally just trying to keep you from getting hepatitis. That would be awkward to explain to a Healer.”

“Please tell me where your tattoos are,” he said.

“Nope,” she said. “I will loan you my ID so you can copy it, though. If you ask nicely.”

James was going to have heart failure. “Yes, please.”

“Also, to your last question, you know as well as I do that modifying Muggle devices with magic is illegal,” Lily said.

James looked at her. Something about the way she said that sounded exactly like Remus when he was telling Sirius something wasn’t allowed at Hogwarts.

She grinned. He grinned back; he’d guessed right. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised.

“I’ll show you, then,” she said, writing something else down. “I’m writing down the brand you should get, I don’t know for a fact that the spell will work on any others.”

“Oh, good,” James said. “I have an idea, and I need Muggle music for it.” He stopped. “You know what, pretend I didn’t say that. I just want it to get Sirius to shut up. Yes. That’s it.”

Lily’s face was unimpressed now, which was a real shame because he’d liked her smug smile. “Is the idea you didn’t have going to hurt or humiliate someone?”

“What? No!” He thought for a minute. It wasn’t fully formed yet, just an inkling, but he didn’t think he was lying. “No. Definitely not. And if it was, I will change it. I will have Remus evaluate it and not let Sirius change anything.”

She looked at him for a long moment, assessing. “All right,” she said, and handed him the paper. “Also, I’m going to assume you’re going to do this during Easter break and not do something idiotic like sneak out of Hogwarts and get a tattoo.”

“Yes,” said James. “Yes, we’re definitely going to wait that long.”

Lily sighed. “Are you really this bad of a liar? I’m a little disappointed, considering how much you seem to escape detentions. I wouldn’t think the professors would fall for it.”

“It’s literally just you,” he said, and winced, because yet again he’d spoken before thinking. Oh, well—in for a Knut, as they said. “I blurt out things without meaning to. You’re terrifying. And smart. And funny and talented and I want to do everything better because you make me realize that’s a thing that is possible. It’s amazing. We’re all in awe of you, Sirius begged me to go out with you, Lily, please stop me from saying these things, I can’t stop and you’re going to hex me and hate me even more than you already do.”

She laughed, then actually patted him on the hand. “I only hate you a little,” she said. “And honestly I’d let you keep going, but you’re in luck.” She nodded towards the doors, where people were finally entering in large groups, including his friends—and a couple of hers.

“Right,” James said. “Well, er—thanks.”

“Any time,” Lily said. She smiled, then got up. She was about to join her friends when she turned to look at him one more time “Oh, and James?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be drunk when you do it,” she said.

“Uh—”

“Promise,” she said, and her gaze was so fierce that James found himself nodding.

She nodded back, once. And then was gone.

James put his head on the table, and pretended not to notice when Sirius sat down next to him, jostling far too much.

“I see you’re not covered in boils,” said Remus, sitting down across from them.

“No,” said James to the tablecloth. “Someone please pinch me, I think I am hallucinating.”

“That’s for dreams, not hallucinations,” said Peter.

Sirius didn’t say anything, just grabbed a hunk of James’s arm and squeezed. With his nails.

“Ow! Jesus! Okay, I’m awake—good lord, Padfoot, do you sharpen those!”

Sirius shrugged. “You looked happy, at least. If a bit delirious.”

James bit his lip, trying desperately to aim for calm and collected, before giving up. “I have made progress,” he said, as grandly as he could manage. “And Moony, _you’re welcome._ ”

Remus looked up from his plate nervously. “…What?”

“I saved you some work. And got us an address,” he said, laying out the parchment in front of him, “to Lily’s tattoo parlor.”

There was an appropriate hushed silence at these words, before Sirius, of course, ruined it.

“Did you get the pen she used to write that? I’m out of them again, and I need more, it makes Snivellus’s face do the _best_ disgusted gymnastics when I use them in class.”

“I have some,” said Remus, “I’ll loan you a couple. Also you should try out the notebooks, they’re much better than parchment.”

“Hell yes,” said Sirius. “I want to see if I can get Narcissa to have a coronary.” He paused. “Oh and nice job, Prongs, very neatly done. This weekend, do you think?”

James sighed. His friends were all terrible.

“Next,” he said. “I have Quidditch.” 

At least it was settled.  
  


Muggle tattoos, it turned out, _hurt like a motherfucker_. And James couldn’t even find it in him to complain, because the bloke doing the work was tattoo’d within an inch of his life, _probably literally_ , because oh right, no anastasia, or whatever Lily had called it.

Jesus Merlin Dumbledore. 

Also there was a speculative gleam in Sirius’s eyes that…well, it didn’t really worry _him_. But Remus was pretending to be annoyed. James had a feeling this would not be Sirius’s last time doing this, although he _very much was not thinking_ about any kind of matching tattoo scenarios.

Nope. Not thinking about it. After all, it was already happening, and they didn’t need his help thinking of sappier things they could do.

The worst part was that Remus had been pretty unaffected by the whole experience. His had been the quickest tattoo, and James had to pretend he didn’t know where it was, but wasn’t the hip supposed to be pretty painful? And yet he walked out like nothing was wrong, and shrugged at James’s slightly incredulous look.

“High pain tolerance,” he said.

“Jesus fuck,” said James, with feeling, which made Remus actually quirk a smile.

“I keep telling him he’s wasted on sweater vests and tea,” said Sirius from where he was sitting backwards in a chair so as not to put any pressure on his presumably very sore shoulder. “He can drink us all under the table, _and_ walks off pain. He’s more hardcore than any of us.” 

James tried very hard not to hear the proud and slightly possessive note in Sirius’s voice when he said that. Admittedly, was made easier by the needle drilling into his forearm. It was a ready-made distraction.

“Did he at least yell,” he said to the tattoo artist, who smirked. “Or grit his teeth, or _something_.”

“Not a sound,” he said. “Quietest of all you lot, really.”

“Dammit,” said James.

Sirius was smirking. “Prongs, yours is the most painless one. Even Wormtail’s was worse than yours.”

“Right on the bone,” said Peter proudly. “ _I_ definitely yelled. At least, I probably did.”

“Right,” said Sirius. To most people it would have sounded neutral, but James could hear the caustic edge he got when Peter was being…well, Peter. “You don’t really remember.”

They had debated over whether to bring Peter along, Peter arguing heavily in favor of staying at Hogwarts, but had finally agreed when they decided that it would be easiest for him to sneak into Diagon Alley, change money, and then sneak out, without being noticed.

They could have Confunded the tattoo artist— _Keith_ , James thought, because he’d been thinking over the whole “be a better person that isn’t prejudiced and shitty” initiative, and thought that remembering people’s names was a good beginning—to avoid paying, but every time James thought about it, he pictured Lily’s face if she found out, and a chill ran down his spine that was hard to ignore. He’d finally talked Sirius around by convincing him it was the more dangerous and risky option.

And _then_ he’d talked Peter around by telling him this was Marauders bonding and they couldn’t just leave him out, and they _needed_ him.

Sometimes, James thought, with a needle drilling into his arm, Sirius and Remus making unsubtle-yet-discreet heart eyes at each other, and Peter looking nervously at the window every time someone walked past outside, it was hard being him.

“I haven’t yelled,” he said, trying very hard not to cringe, and to hide the fact that he was trying not to.

“We’re all very proud of you,” said Remus. He was kind enough not to comment on the faces James was making.

“I thought you didn’t think you could convince Lily to like you,” James said, to Sirius. Now seemed like the appropriate time to bring this up.

“What?”

“You said I’d have more luck than you,” James reminded him patiently. “But you exchanged music, and pens. You _are_ friends.”

“Is exchanging pens what the kids are calling it these days?” murmured Keith, without lifting his eyes from his work.

Sirius snorted. “Only if it’s what the kids call forgetting your quuuuuuuuu—” he winced, probably because Remus kicked him, “—pen. Forgetting your _pen_ , and begging the nearest redhead for a new one because your _worthless friends_ only brought one to class—”

“I am not your personal supplies distributor,” said Remus on cue.

“—and she takes pity on you and teaches you the ways of the ballpoint.”

“Really?” said Keith, now actually looking up for the first time. “You’ve never used a ballpoint pen before? Did you live under a rock before that, mate?”

James glared, but Remus—thank heaven for Remus—didn’t bat an eyelash. “A mansion, actually,” he said. “His family’s old-fashioned. Only ever used fountain pens and drank Earl Gray and wiped his bum with silk before he met us, the poor bastard.”

“You _love_ Earl Gray,” said Sirius, though he didn’t sound offended.

Remus grinned at him, the grin that had teeth in it and reminded them all of the wolf a bit too strongly, though no one would ever tell him that. “I didn’t say any of that was _bad_ ,” he said, innocent tone in utter juxtaposition with his expression.

Oh, god. James ground his teeth harder and hoped to all the stars in the sky that Keith the tattoo artist was open-minded, because Sirius had the most smitten expression he’d ever seen in his life, and he’d seen his own face when thinking about Lily Evans.

“Huh,” said Keith. “Never heard that one before. Guess it takes all sorts.”

“They’re a bit close-minded,” said James meaningfully.

“Religious?”

“Very,” said James before Sirius could say anything to ruin it.

“Ah,” said Keith, a bit too understandingly. “Funny how those are the ones that never take a vow of poverty, innit?”

“My family would like _other_ people to take vows of poverty,” said Sirius, a shade bitterly. “Forcibly, if necessary.”

“He was disowned,” Peter told Keith. “Banged the door closed and ran away, heeeeeexe—er. _Hit_ his hoooouse—keeper on the way out, the whole thing.”

“The house _keeper_ deserved it,” James said hastily. “Used to spy on him for his parents.”

“Also he’s a drama queen,” said Remus, and his grin only got wider when Sirius kicked him and then winced because kicking required more shoulder muscles than he’d previously realized.

“Had a couple of blokes in here the other day, got kicked out for the same reason,” said Keith. “Well, it may take all sorts, but there are a few we could do without, if you take my meaning.”

Sirius looked confused, and opened his mouth to say something, before James glared at him, the “don’t you dare say a word you’ll blow our cover also _you’re not fooling anyone_ ” glare that he hoped would will him and Remus into silence. “Couldn’t agree more,” he said out loud, and _loudly_ , so that Sirius would get the point.

“Well, Lily Evans may hate you, but you’re welcome here,” said Keith, with a faint grin.

“Which brings me back to my point, thank you Keith,” said James. He really liked Keith, even though Keith was still digging into his arm with a needle. “Since when are you two mates?” 

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance they probably thought he didn’t understand. “She likes Remus,” Sirius said. “I tag along sometimes.”

“I think it’s really only you she hates now, Prongs,” said Peter thoughtfully.

“Thanks ever so for that, Pete,” said James, gritting his teeth and trying to keep holding still even though he desperately wanted to give a two-fingered salute.

“No, I mean she used to hate Sirius. But she’s warmed up to him.”

“For some reason,” said James.

Sirius gave him a wounded look. “I would never! Anyway, I told you I’ve sworn off women, mate.”

Keith snorted, a snort that James _knew_ meant “I bet you have,” and Remus looked faintly alarmed. “Yes, yes, they can’t handle you and your perfection, we all know, no one cares,” James said.

“None of them will put up with him anymore,” Remus told Keith.

“I’m an acquired taste,” Sirius said, his haughtiest voice. “And I’ll grow on you. Like a fungus.” He nudged Remus’s foot. “Grew on you, anyway.”

James squinted at them, wondering whether they were playing it up on purpose for Keith’s benefit, or if they still thought they were being subtle.

“You got your metaphors confused,” Remus said.

“Did I?” said Sirius. “Or did I _mean to do that_?”

“You’re blowing my mind,” Remus said dryly.

Holy hell, this was how they flirted, James realized, in a flood of dawning horror. This was how they flirted, and they’d been flirting ever since they met each other. _Holy hell_. He looked at their faces again—Remus’s was perfectly blank. Sirius was smiling faintly, but was otherwise the picture of innocence.

Well, shit.

James understood what was going on now, at least.

And they were not going to get away with it.

Before he could open his mouth to say something he’d probably regret later, he realized abruptly that the pain in his arm had changed, and it still hurt like a motherfucker but at least there was no needle in it anymore—and Keith announced that he was done. James submitted to bandaging his arm and got up in relief.

Keith grinned cheerfully at Sirius as they wrapped up and paid, and gave Remus a big wink when telling him to look after his friends and make sure they took care of themselves. James found himself tipping more than he meant to, and shook his head when Keith tried to protest. “You put up with us, mate, you could’ve charged us double and I’d pay it.”

“How do you know I didn’t?” Keith had said, and “Come back when you’re ready for your next one.”

James had walked out grinning, thinking that this “making friends with Muggles” thing wasn’t so bad, and resisted the urge to smack Sirius on the back. Instead he shoved him on the non-tattooed shoulder, in the direction of the record store.

The only real disappointing part of the whole thing was that he had to be bandaged up for a while. James had _plans_ for this tattoo, and covering it up even for a day or so seemed criminal.

Also, Keith had just grinned and said “I never ink and tell, mate” when he’d asked where Lily’s tattoos were.

Also, his arm hurt.

Okay, so there were a few downsides to this.

But on the other hand. On the brilliant, shining other hand—the record shop had been an incredible success, though he and Remus had to tear Sirius out of it, and they now had something called a Beatles White Album, as well as an Abbey Road, a Let it Be, and a stack of something called “singles,” which the shopkeeper had pushed on them when they’d expressed interest. And Sirius had more of his Lead Blimps—James was never going to let on that he knew their real name, the look on Sirius’s face when he mucked it up was too good—and they’d picked up something called A Night at the Opera, after more advice from Phil, the record man.

Plus some things from Lily’s list. It had been a lot of money, but James thought that when he could prove to her that he knew what a Garfunkel was, it would be worth it.

On Lily’s advice, they’d also picked out a turntable, though James was making Peter carry that bag—he was the only one who wouldn’t be in extreme pain just from having to lift it. Except Remus, but he’d been in a deep, quiet conversation with Sirius when the question came up, and was smiling faintly—just around the eyes—and James had just…handed it to Peter.

He was going to _have_ to tell the two of them that he knew about them. He was fairly sure they were betting on how long it would take him to figure out, after their little display in the tattoo parlor.

The _real_ question was how to make sure Remus won.

That one kept him occupied all the way back to Hogwarts. Later he was just glad that Sirius and Remus didn’t notice his silence, and if Peter did, he didn’t say anything.  
  


Lily Evans was in his room.

Lily Evans was _in his room_.

Lily Evans was in his room and it wasn’t anything he’d ever imagined. 

“Excuse me,” James said, “I just need to go in the loo and hyperventilate.”

He stood up, actually stood up without his legs going out, but Remus pulled him back down without looking away from the record player that was gutted and laying out all over the floor.

“Ow! Fuck, Moony, that hurt!” he said, landing awkwardly on the rug.

“Shut up,” said Sirius. “We need you. Hyperventilate later.”

“Hold this,” said Lily, passing him an unidentifiable part, then took her wand, which was lit up at the tip, out of her hair, and shined the light into the body of the turntable. “I think that’s the last one. You understand what you need to do?”

James nodded, mouth completely dry. There was grease all over her hands and a smudge across her cheek. He was lightheaded.

“Focus,” Sirius said, nudging him. “You bollocks this up and it’s over, no second chances.”

“Remus, can you do the light?” said Lily. “I’ll get to work on the Charms part.”

James swallowed once, twice, then set the piece down on the ground. Lily had explained to him how they needed to modify the machine to draw from a magical power source instead of electricity—apparently this involved taking the entire thing apart and enchanting certain parts of it, and she didn’t trust them to do it without her supervision. 

She’d agreed to do it even after she’d seen his bandaged arm, realized they’d _definitely_ snuck out of Hogwarts illegally to get tattooed, and shaken her head in disapproval at him. 

She hadn’t really yelled though. Just said “you’d better not forget to put the ointment on that,” and walked away.

James would never understand her.

He could follow her instructions, though. This was _important_. So he pushed up his sleeves. And focused.

Lily, because she had sense, waited until he was done to make comments. And she was putting the turntable back together when she did, not even looking at him.

“A deer?” she said, screwing pieces back together that she’d pronounced acceptable.

“What?” said James, then looked at his arm. “Oh. Uh. I’ll have you know it’s a _stag_ ,” he said.

“Oh god,” said Remus. “You got him started.”

“Do you know why?” he said, ignoring Remus, as well as Sirius, who already had his hands over his face and was groaning.

Lily glanced at him, then back at the record player. There was something odd about the look her face, though he couldn’t pin down what it was. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Remus, Sirius, and Peter together. But she still asked.

“Why?”

“Because every time you turn me down for a date, I have to _go stag_ ,” said James, grinning widely.

Lily pressed her thumb to her temple. “Yep, I regret it.”

“You don’t like forest creatures?” said James. “That’s a shame, Lily, because they’re so _deer_ to me.”

“Please let me make him stop,” said Sirius to Lily. “I can do it, I’ve been practicing my _Silencio’s_ ever since he started doing this.”

“But Sirius,” said James with a straight face. “I’m so _fawn’d_ of this tattoo! Why won’t you let me express myself?”

“I can even kill him and you’ll never find the body,” said Sirius. “My family has connections, it’s true.”

“Your family disowned you,” said James. “You just weren’t very _deer_ to them.”

“You used that one already,” said Peter, but James ignored him.

“What do you call a deer with no eyes?” he said instead.

“ _Don’t_ ask,” said Remus.

Lily was on his side, though. He _knew_ she was, even though she still wasn’t looking at him. She was smirking. “What?” she said, without batting an eyelash.

“Remus is right, you shouldn’t ask. Because I have _no-i-deer_.” 

She burst out laughing. She actually burst out laughing.

Everyone stared.

“Dear god, you’re made for each other,” said Sirius in disgust.

“You mean _deer_ god,” said Peter, unexpectedly.

Lily just grinned. Without looking up from the record player, she pulled up the leg of her jeans to expose her calf.

Where there was a tattoo of a deer. A female deer.

“It’s funny, doe,” she said.

Four jaws dropped. 

James, to his own shock, recovered first. “Lily!” he exclaimed, before he could think twice about what he was going to say. “Don’t you see! This completely _bucks_ the notion that we’re not meant to be!”

“One day they’ll tell tails of this, I know,” said Lily dryly. She was screwing something together, and it looked like she was almost done.

“I hate you both,” said Sirius. “I really do. Please someone stop them. Moony, let me stop them.”

“Prongs,” Lily said, ignoring them. “Like the antlers. Does this have something to do with that?”

The Marauders all fell silent, and tried not to look at each other or make any sign that they were deeply uncomfortable, which was probably a huge indicator that they were, in fact, uncomfortable.

“Er,” said James. “Yes. But I can’t tell you what, it’s secret Marauder business, very hush-hush, need to know, confidential. You understand.”

“Of course,” she said. “I actually don’t want to know, come to think of it.”

“What about you?” he said, unable to help himself. “Why a deer?”

She looked at him this time, and smiled. “Can’t tell you. Very secret Lily Evans business. You understand. Here, someone pick out a record and let’s see if this thing works.”

It did work. James thought that Lily laughing at Sirius’s enthusiastic headbanging to something called a “Bohemian Rhapsody” was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, except for the fact that he and Lily Evans completely coincidentally had _corresponding tattoos_.

Also, the song was perfect for what he had in mind. They had work to do.

But first, he really did have to hyperventilate in the bathroom for a while.  
  


Okay, so it turned out suits of armor were more difficult to steal from the Hogwarts hallways than one might think.

Typically, moving them into the Great Hall for James’s plan had not been his idea—that had been all Sirius. And Remus, of course, had been the one to work out how to do it, after a lot of patience and perseverance, because it turned out the suits had some _serious_ wards on them. They still weren’t sure what they were for. Remus said, and James agreed, that they were definitely defensive, but defense against what—well, all they’d been able to determine was that it was very old magic, and not something they wanted to tamper with.

Remus had worked out the spells with Sirius who, when he put his mind to something, was a force to be reckoned with. James and Sirius had tried them out one night in an empty corridor, and James was still extremely proud of himself for not interrogating his friend about Remus.

This might have had something to do with the fact that they ended up chasing a suit of armor halfway across Hogwarts without getting caught by Filch, a feat that really should go down in Hogwarts history but tragically never would. He and Sirius were still laughing about it. Peter was all awe, and Remus even quirked a smile when he heard.

They had needed a spell to change records without having to do it by hand, and shockingly enough, that had come from Lily Evans. It turned out that her speeches about Muggle ingenuity aside, it hadn’t been _quite_ enough for her, and she’d gotten sick of having to change records and move needles and generally fidget with the machine just to listen to a different song or a different artist. 

So she’d just invented her own spells. As though that was an easy and completely normal thing to do! As though plenty of grown wizards hadn’t died blowing themselves up trying to do the same thing!

That hadn’t stopped him and Sirius from trying it, of course, but it had been incredibly difficult and after a lot of trial and mostly error and explosions, they’d decided to stick to modifying existing spells instead of inventing new ones completely.

James wondered if it had to do with being Muggleborn and not knowing it was supposed to be hard. He also wondered what else Lily could do that would never occur to a Pureblood to even attempt. He wondered how much worse wizarding culture would be without Muggles and Muggleborns.

He thought about this almost as much as he thought about the prank itself, and even more about how to tell Lily he thought she was amazing without managing to infuriate her. He was considering writing a song.

However, before he could work on an action item on his “Ways To Convice Lily Evans You’re Not A Rubbish Fire Of A Human Being” list, he had another objective, and for that he needed to talk to Remus alone, and for _that_ , he had to convince Remus that he absolutely needed James’s help to set up the record player.

“Put it this way,” he said, finally, “who do you want choosing the music? Me or Sirius?”

“Hey!” said Sirius. “My taste is incredible!”

“You listen to the same two songs on a loop daily,” said Peter.

“I can’t pick it out myself?” said Remus, ignoring them both. “You two should focus on enchanting all the armor, I’m still not sure the timer spells are going to work…”

James was about to wave that away, when he thought about leaving Sirius and Peter to it and realized that Remus actually had a point. “Well….I’ll just have to do double duty, then, it’ll go faster with two of us and then we can both go help. C’mon, Moony! Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“Your puppy-dog eyes are not nearly as effective as Padfoot’s,” Remus said, but he didn’t actually argue, so James figured it was settled.

Now he just had to ignore Peter.

“Are you sure dinner is the best time for this?” he said.

“For the last time, _yes_ ,” said James. “First thing in the morning is no good, the school filters in so slowly and I’m not convinced McGonagall wouldn’t murder all of us if we did this before she’s fully woken up—”

“She sleeps?” said Peter.

“A full eight hours a night, very sensibly,” said Sirius approvingly. “She’s too classy a lady for anything less.” 

“How do you kno—you know what, never mind,” said Remus.

“—Lunch is no good,” James continued, determined to finish now that he’d started. “In the middle of classes? Evans _and_ McGonagall would kill me, and I’d hate to see her go to jail before she even graduates Hogwarts with more N.E.W.T’s than any of us—”

“You’re back to calling her Evans? What, did you two get in a fight?” said Sirius.

“Would McGonagall not go to jail?” said Peter.

“Never,” Sirius told him. “She’d make it look like an accident and get away scot-free, don’t be an idiot.”

“— _which leaves dinner_ ,” said James loudly. “Everyone will be there, and there will be no excuse for murder, if they could even prove it was us, which they won’t be able to, since we have afternoon classes on Friday and will have been in class all day like good little sixth years. Okay? Okay. No more arguing. Moony, come with me.”

“Where are we going?” said Remus, because he was, secretly, a little shit. Sirius actually beamed at him. James was going to vomit.

“You’re all dead to me,” he said, grabbing Remus’s wrist and physically dragging him along. “Come on, I’m going to murder you before Lily or McGonagall can even get to you.”

“Tell my story, Pads!” Remus yelled. A bark of laughter followed them out of the dormitory and down to the Common Room.

They’d decided on a very secret location near the Great Hall for the record player setup, a little nook hidden by a tapestry that was perfect for their purposes. They would need amplification spells, spells to throw the sound so no one could tell where it was coming from, and spells that Lily called “mixing spells,” which sounded odd, but “mixing” just turned out to be a Muggle term for “picking what order to play songs in.” And really, having two people to do this—two people who were good at magic and unlikely to get distracted in tight quarters all alone, that is—was not a bad idea. James was a strategical genius.

“So,” he said. “What’s the current bet on when I’ll figure out about you and Sirius?”

Right. Strategy. Strategy was the most important thing in a time like this.

Remus was staring at him. 

“Fuck,” he said finally. James wondered distantly if Sirius got a little thrill of accomplishment every time Remus swore, then stamped down heavily on that thought. Remus was still talking, after all. Yes. Listen to the friend, Potter. “I owe him,” he said. “He’s got you figuring it out ages ago and being too awkward to tell us.” He bent over the record player, refusing to meet James’s eyes, as though there was anything that could make this conversation less weird.

“It hasn’t been _ages_ ,” James said. “And I wasn’t too awkward. Lily said I should wait to let you tell me. I only figured out at the tattoo place that you weren’t actually trying to hide it.”

Remus’s hand slipped, and James had to grab it before he scratched the record he was positioning. “Careful!”

“You talked about it with _Lily_?” Remus said.

James shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I didn’t tell her anything, she already knew. It just came up.” 

“Came up how?” said Remus, who knew what James sounded like when he was withholding information.

He had more practice at not blurting things out around Remus, though. “She talks to me sometimes,” he said vaguely. “Anyway, you knew she knew, you weren’t hiding it! You just weren’t saying anything, you let people draw their own conclusions, and Lily’s your friend and not an idiot.”

Remus’s lips quirked into a half-smirk that James _knew_ Sirius worked way too hard to get out of him. Christ, he’d been so blind. “Unlike some people?”

James sighed. “You’re not wrong, Moony,” he said, as heavily as he could without laughing. He picked a record, put it on the turntable, and positioned the arm right over the groove for “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Sure?” said Remus.

“Yes,” said James firmly. “We can go to Led Zeppelin after that, and finish off with the Garfunkel.” He marked the track with his wand, leaving a glowing silver light in the groove to mark its place and draw the needle down to it when they activated the spell.

Remus was grinning.

“What?”

“I knew you knew the right name for Led Zeppelin,” he said. “You were only saying Lead Blimp to piss him off.”

“Er—Lily corrected me,” he admitted.

“Hm,” said Remus. “How much have you been talking to her, anyway?”

“Uh—twice in the last three weeks? Which now that you mention it is more than usual, Remus, d’you think she’s warming up to me?”

“Well, _I_ didn’t get the name of her tattoo artist, a copy of her ID, and her complicit assistance with a schoolwide prank,” said Remus. “You sure you want to close out with Simon and Garfunkel? They’re a little more mellow than the other two, less dance-y.”

“Lily likes them,” James said.

Remus sighed. “James,” he said.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not agreeing to Zeppelin just because Sirius likes them.”

“I am not nearly as whipped as you,” Remus informed him.

“Right, that’s got to be the other way around,” James said before he could think about it, then turned a furious shade of red when Remus stared at him. “Um. Please let’s forget I said that.”

“Done,” said Remus. “Why not the Beatles?”

“Oh, right,” said James. “Shit. We’d better start with them. What song do you think?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m not an expert on Muggle dance music.”

“Hard Day’s Night it is, then,” said James, pulling out the single in question. “Queen can close. Also, you know we don’t have to _tell_ Sirius that he was right.”

Remus sighed heavily, but took the Queen record out of the turntable and started to erase the markings James had put on it, and didn’t comment. “We don’t?” he said. He closed the spell off and started over, putting “Hard Day’s Night” in the turntable and marking it as the first song instead.

“We don’t,” James said. “We make him think I just now figured it out, and then you don’t have to pay out, and you can give me part of your cut.”

Remus actually dropped his wand. “Uh—James,” he said, picking it up without looking at him. His ears were very red. “I, uh. I don’t think you actually want that.”

“What? Why not?” James got to work on the amplification spells, since Remus was indisposed for whatever reason.

“Uh,” Remus said again. He leaned back and covered his eyes, sighing. “The bet wasn’t for money,” he said.

James suddenly understood why Remus didn’t want to look at him.

“Merlin’s balls,” he said, when he realized it had been way too long since he’d said words. He was mid spell and could almost feel a coil of magic hanging loose, but—but.

“You want to pretend this conversation never happened? I’m all for pretending this never happened,” said Remus.

James shook himself, and hurriedly finished off his spell before it could spiral out of control and explode and give away their whereabouts. “No, no,” he said. “I need to be better about taking responsibility for my actions, I did this to myself, I should accept the consequences.”

“You sure you’ve only talked to Lily twice recently?” said Remus. He sounded suspicious.

“Very sure,” said James. “Uh—well. Fuck. How long have you two been—you know.”

Remus, mercifully, didn’t ask him to clarify. “Last semester,” he said. “October.”

“Wait,” said James. “Please tell me it wasn’t the Hogsmeade weekend when you two disappeared for two hours and Pete and I didn’t notice you were gone until it was time to go back to Hogwarts and you two showed up like nothing had happened—oh god. Oh _god_.”

“No,” said Remus, and thank god his ears were bright pink, it meant James wasn’t the only one deeply embarrassed by this conversation. “Before that.”

“Wait, really?” James was now curious in spite of himself, never a good sign, but he couldn’t stop it. “Oh my god, Remus, you’re his longest relationship ever. Who kissed who first? Wait, no, let me guess—if I guess right you can tell Sirius you win the bet after all.”

“That’s not how it—”

“Shhh, Moony, I’m thinking.” He squinted at his friend for a minute. “I bet it was you,” he said finally. “Sirius talks a load of bollocks but he’d never own up to having _feelings_. Also you probably laid one on him just to get him to shut the hell up.”

Remus was still pink, but in a way that meant he was hiding a grin. “That’s—not far off, actually.”

“Yes!! I knew it. You know, Remus,” he said, pushing up his sleeve, “it may take me some time to figure things out sometimes—”

“Oh god,” said Remus.

“—But eventually I get the i- _deer_. Get it? Get it?” James held up his arm for effect, and didn’t care that Remus was burying his head in his hands. _Both_ hands. That meant it was _extra funny._ “Oh my god, I’m the best. Hey, since I didn’t figure it out until like last week, you can tell Sirius he was wrong, I _didn’t_ know this whole time. So technically you were both right.”

“I did say that if you knew there’s no way you wouldn’t be wildly obnoxious about it,” said Remus thoughtfully. “And I was right about that.”

“See? Winners all around! Wait, what? I’m obnoxious? How dare you!”

“I think Sirius will say we both _lost_ ,” said Remus, grinning, because he knew it would make James squirm. And it did. “Which means we’d both have to pay up,” he added, just to twist the knife further.

“Great,” said James. “ _Never tell me what the bet is._ I think we should go help out him and Wormtail, huh?”

“I can’t believe you deliberately separated us so you could corner me for this conversation,” said Remus, following him out into the hallway.

“Shhhh, Moony, stealth, haven’t you learned anything after six years with us delinquents?” he said in an undertone. “Come on, and be quiet. And it had to be you, there’s no way I could cut a deal with Sirius.”

“So I’m easier to manipulate?” Remus said, but at least he said it quietly.

“To _reason with_ , keep up, Moony. Also just for the record, if you break Padfoot’s heart, I’ll punch you, and if he breaks yours I’ll punch him. Tell him I said that.”

“Tell him yourself,” said Remus. “Come on, we’d better find them before Peter blows up the school.”

“ _True_ ,” said James, with feeling, and followed his friend down the hall.  
  


In retrospect, James really shouldn’t have left Sirius to his own devices for even thirty seconds, let alone all the time it had taken for him and Remus to set up the records.

He had _added things_.

McGonagall was going to _set them on fire_.

It started well enough. Dinner was going on as usual, the dull roar of conversation serving well to hide the fact that Sirius was jiggling his leg uncontrollably, and Peter kept laughing nervously.

It wasn’t exactly a high-stakes prank, but it had required difficult magic, so their nervous energy was mostly excitement to see how it worked. Even Remus kept glancing at the doorways, with the faint smile that meant he was looking forward to something and didn’t want to admit it.

James was just starting to worry that the entrance wouldn’t be nearly dramatic enough when a horrible sound, staticky at first and then a weird, tinny howl, echoed over the hall. He immediately looked at Sirius, who was the picture of innocence, which meant that he had _definitely_ done something. Probably with Remus’s help—yes, Remus’s face was completely blank. Maybe they hadn’t taken so long to come back from the loo earlier that day because they were snogging. Maybe they had been fiddling with the record player. _Maybe both._

The Great Hall had gone dead quiet. A few people were looking around, trying to determine the source of the noise, and others were looking trepidatious and even a little scared. James glanced at one or two people that he knew to be Muggleborns. They looked _very_ confused. That sound must have been a Muggle thing that Sirius had dug up, though Merlin knew where he’d found it.

The vague fear and confusion did not go away when the suits of armor came marching in and took up their places among the students.

James saw McGonagall start to rise from her seat, wand out, and then stop, confused, when the dissonant chord of “Hard Day’s Night” rang out.

The time between that chord and the lyrics felt like an eternity, but as soon as they started and the suits of armor began their choreographed dance, and the mood in the room went veered straight to laughter. A few Muggleborn students, once they understood what was happening, jumped up to dance and even sing along, and several of their friends joined them, reluctant at first but encouraged by the enthusiastic routine of the suits of armor.

_Yes,_ thought James. _Random dance party accomplished._

Lily was staring at him. He caught her eye and grinned.

She kept staring. James was on the verge of fidgeting uncomfortably when a suit of armor offered her its hand, and then all hell broke loose.

How had Sirius even known how to get it to do that.

Oh god, people were dancing with the suits of armor. Lily’s was twirling her. She was _laughing_. McGonagall was _looking_ at him, he could _feel it_.

James looked at Sirius in a panic, but Sirius had actually jumped to his feet and was laughing, the wild laughter that meant he had forgotten all consequences, and he had somehow pulled Remus into this nonsense and was spinning him around. Peter was not dancing, but he was grinning and clapping along.

He looked over at the Slytherin table. Most of them were looking at each other darkly. And muttering.

Snape was glaring at Lily.

Right.

James twitched his wand ever so slightly, turning up the volume a little more, loud enough that no one would be able to plot evilly together. When the song faded out, no one had even a split second to groan in disappointment, because Led Zeppelin was playing, the suits of armor were headbanging, and everyone was laughing and throwing their hands up in the air, even the ones who didn’t know the song.

He chanced a look at Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was eating calmly, as though nothing was happening.

Slytherins were trying to get up and leave the Hall, but it was extremely difficult to get to the door, and they kept ending up in the middle of dancing students.

James grinned. Some of the First and Second Years, the ones who hadn’t been there long enough to be fully Slytherin’d, were slipping into the crowd so they could dance too, taking off their badges so no one would notice them.

He looked around, and saw that Peter had seen them too. He raised his eyebrows, and Peter nodded, a little too obviously, but no one was looking. They both took their wands out again, casting Obfuscation charms that targeted the older Slytherins. It wouldn’t do for the kids to get in trouble with their shitty peers.

Peter wasn’t a great hand at most magic, but he could always make things unnoticeable. And on James’s part, a few well-placed Charms pushed the Slytherins who were sneering the hardest towards the doors. It was worth it, to keep them from cooking up trouble that would ruin the fun. And neither Snape nor Lucius Malfoy would be able to get back inside until it was over. He knew his business.

“Black Dog” faded out, and for another second, the entire Great Hall held its breath.

There were actual cheers when “Bohemian Rhapsody” started.

Sirius hadn’t messed with this choreography. The suits of armor started off slow, just the way they had planned it, and this time everyone was watching them—even the non-Muggleborns could tell from the music that something was building up.

The Muggleborns, on the other hand, were singing along at the top of their lungs. James could see a couple of them dramatically miming to their friends.

A few suits of armor struck epic air guitar poses for the first guitar solo. His chest filled with the satisfaction of a job well done, but that wasn’t nearly as incredible as the anticipation of knowing what was coming next.

Sure enough, the looks of confusion when the song picked up were priceless and completely worth the wait.

The best part of all were the people who knew the song. James realized, suddenly, that this was probably the first time at Hogwarts when they knew exactly what was going on when all the wizarding-born students didn’t.

A bunch of them had jumped up on the tables. Sirius was among them. They were putting the suit-of-armor choreography to shame. They had taken up parts in the singing. Sirius, who always wore Muggle clothes to dinner just to annoy Slytherins, was ripping off his shirt. There was a great deal of laughter and cheering, not to mention a few wolf-whistles. Sirius winked into the crowd, seemingly at random, but James saw him glance briefly at Remus before he did it.

Idiots.

James looked at Lily briefly, at how hard she was laughing, and didn’t even have to think about it. He jumped up with Sirius, just in time to headbang furiously to the third section of the song.

The rest was a blur. He thought he might have slid down the table on his knees to sing dramatically at Lily Evans. He was pretty sure Sirius had tangled his hair into permanent knots. Somehow his tie ended up wrapped around his head, and he had no memory of doing that. He had pushed up his sleeves so that his stag tattoo was visible—extra amazing because it was freshly enchanted to move in accordance with his mood, so it was jumping and leaping all over his arm, and everyone could see it. He vaguely remembered Remus lighting up the tip of his wand, waving it, starting a trend all across the Great Hall as the song ended.

The suits of armor struck one more epic pose, one arm in the air, heads bowed—and then abruptly stood up straight and marched back out of the Hall, back to their appropriate places.

There was a brief moment of confusion, when everyone wasn’t sure whether it was really over, but when it became clear that it was, a collective groan went up. James and Sirius glanced at each other, assessing— _we could play another song, should we play another song?_ They looked at Remus, who flicked his eyes briefly towards the head table— _see what Dumbledore does._

He chanced a look at Peter, whose face was blank— _are we in trouble??? Do they know it was us???_

No help there.

Just before everyone gave up and sat down in disappointment, the sound of someone clearing their throat politely came from the front of the room. They all looked anxiously at the Headmaster, who said nothing at first, just sighed and looked at the ceiling.

“I have just gone temporarily deaf and blind,” said Dumbledore. “So if anything interesting just happened, I have no idea what it was.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

“However,” he said.

Everyone tensed.

“I rather enjoyed the quiet, to be honest. It would probably return if whatever was so interesting were not over so quickly.”

James and Sirius grinned at each other— _encore_. Sirius smirked faintly and glanced at Remus, then back at James: _don’t worry, we have songs ready._

Remus bit his lip, hiding a grin. He twitched his wand, so subtly that it was almost unnoticeable.

They weren’t all Muggle songs. There were a few wizarding ones mixed in, because, as Sirius yelled to him over the music, they’d made their point and now just wanted everyone to dance. Also, the songs were good.

“You could have told me,” James said, right in his ear, because he didn’t feel like screaming.

Sirius gave him an odd look. “That we made a few changes to the mix? I didn’t think it was that important, mate.”

“That too,” said James.

Sirius looked at Remus, then back at James. “That wouldn’t have been as fun though, would it?”

James rolled his eyes. “You’re a moron, Pads.”

“Did he tell you it was his idea?”

“What?”

Sirius grinned. “The bet was his idea. I came up with the rules.”

He looked at Remus, who was watching them. When he saw the look on James’s face, he winked. Actually winked.

Remus Lupin: ideas man. Sirius Black: strategist.

The world was not ready.

“Jesus Merlin Dumbledore,” said James, but he was grinning so widely he thought his face would split in half. “You two are going to eat each other alive.”

“Well—” Sirius began.

“No,” said James, resisting the urge to clamp his hand over Sirius’s mouth, because Sirius would just lick it and that would go badly for everyone. “No breaking my brain. It’s fragile.”

“Right,” said Sirius. “Well, if you want advice from an expert—”

“Oh god.”

“—You should _definitely_ quit talking to me right now.”

“What?”

Sirius tilted his chin in Lily’s direction, and when James looked at her she looked back and _grinned at him._ His mouth went dry.

“Right,” he said, summoning every ounce of Gryffindor courage he had, and went over to see if she would dance with him, or at least spin around in circles wildly until they both fell over.

She did.

She even told him, later, that it was a good prank, as pranks went, and it was a good morale-booster for the Muggleborns. She was proud of him for coming up with something that was fun for everyone, that even opened up everyone’s horizons a little bit.

James managed not to propose marriage on the spot, or even agree that he was a genius, which, while true, would have spoiled it. He stuck to “thank you” and “Lily, you are the _deerest_ person in the world to me, your approval is like the sun, my _fawn_ dness for you grows daily, grace me with your _stag-_ gering light” and “okay, okay, I’m going now, _doe_ it kills me to leave your _deer_ presence.”

It was a good night.


	2. coda: no seams nor needle work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda to "sail on by." One relationship, two years, many lies, and finally, the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tell her to make me a cambric shirt:_   
>  _Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;_   
>  _Without no seams nor needle work,_   
>  _Then she'll be a true love of mine._
> 
> \--Simon & Garfunkel, "Scarborough Fair"

The second time James asked, Lily lied. Which, once he thought about it, was probably fair.

“I like the way they run,” she’d said. “It’s graceful.” The flat tone made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it further. He let it be.  
  


The second through fifth times she asked, he also lied. It wasn’t necessary the sixth time.

“No, really,” she said. “Why a deer?” Then rolled her eyes at his expression. “Sorry, _stag_. Don’t get me wrong, it suits you—it just doesn’t seem like something you’d choose.”

“What would I choose?” He asked, curious.

“I dunno—something more…obnoxious? Ostentatious, that’s the word. You know. Showy.”

“Like…?”

“A lion eating a snake, or something ridiculous like that.”

“Hmmm.”

She knew that tone. “Don’t you dare, James Potter, not if you ever want to get anywhere near me ever again.”

“Well, in that case.”

Turned out changing the subject worked nearly as well as lying.  
  


Lily didn’t figure that out as quickly as he did. The next time he asked, she gave him a little bit of truth.

“Used to see them outside my house. They never bothered anyone, but—they’re bigger than they seem. It’s not a good idea to antagonize them.”

“Unassuming but mighty,” said James. “Sounds familiar.”

“Something like that,” said Lily.

She was still lying, then.  
  


“Purely for the puns, my deer,” he said the eighth time. He was beginning to suspect that she was still asking just to hear what he’d come up with.  
  


The fourth time he asked, it was when she was white around the lips after an encounter with Lucius Malfoy, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d already said, “they’re idiots, Evans” and “you’re not going to let that little snot-nosed prat get to you, are you?” and “they’re _wrong_ , they’re not going to get away with this, we’re going to stop it.”

She gave him a withering look at that last one. “Sure about that?” she said. “Did you see the _Prophet_ this morning?”

He had.

He sat down next to her, and after a minute she uncrossed her legs, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her.

The movement of her legs gave him a glimpse of the tattoo, and a chance to lighten the mood.

“Still not going to tell me why a deer?”

“They’re not magical,” Lily said.

That sounded more true than last time. He looked at her sideways.

She shrugged. “They do hang around my parent’s house, and I do like the way they run. They remind me of home. They’re not unicorns, or bowtruckles, or centaurs, or phoenixes or any other— _damn_ magical animal, or even one this stupid school uses as a symbol of how everyone here thinks they’re better than everyone else. They have nothing to do with Hogwarts, and everything to do with who I am outside of this place, away from the dirty looks people give me.”

“Like the music,” said James.

“Yes,” said Lily.

It was more of the truth than before. Maybe even most of it.  
  


So the next time she asked him, he returned the favor. It was the day they graduated. The sun was shining, Sirius and Remus had disappeared, and she was smiling at him, her back turned to the sour expression on Snape’s face.

“You can’t get in trouble with me anymore, Potter,” she said, a blatant lie, but he let it slide. “Gonna tell me the truth yet?”

“I can’t,” he said.

Her tone had been wry, teasing—now it was surprised. “What?”

“There’s a reason,” said James. “It’s very personal. I’d tell you part of it, but I can’t tell you the other part, and without that it wouldn’t make sense. It’s not my secret.”

There must have been something in his face, because she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She reached out, touched his cheek gently. “Okay.”  
  


When he asked the fifth time, they were alone in their brand new apartment, just before bed, curled up—fully clothed, mind, not getting up to anything, but somehow just as intimate.

“Was that really all?” he said. He was looking at her calf, where her pajamas were riding up a bit. “A symbol of strength, grace, and being a Muggleborn?”

Lily gave him an odd look. “You don’t think that’s enough things?”

“For most people, sure,” said James. “But you always have another reason.”

She huffed a laugh, and James knew then that the next thing she said would be the truth. All of it.

“When I was ten years old, my mother planted lilies in our back garden,” she said. “Not by the house. Away from it. I wanted her to do it, they were my favorite flower, because—well.”

“Obviously,” said James. “And now you prefer tulips, but you still like the red lilies best, which is why your other tattoo is a red lily, on your shoulder, where I can see it when your shirt slips down a bit, it’s fucking great.”

“Well remembered,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, as soon as they bloomed, the deer got into them and trampled them and ate them, and they were ruined.”

“So you got a tattoo…of the thing that ruined your namesake?”

“Yes,” said Lily. At his look, she smiled. “When I cried, my mother said they were hungry and needed to eat. She said you don’t blame a deer for doing what a deer does. She said I was sad to lose the flowers, but think how happy the deer were for that meal. She said we could replant them next year and put up a fence, and we could afford to lose a little bit if it meant a fellow creature wasn’t going hungry.”

“They would’ve found something else to eat,” said James.

“Yes,” said Lily. “But—don’t get mad—when I told—well, when I told Severus, he said he would’ve hexed the deer, or put up jinxes around the garden to keep them out.

“That’s right,” said James, trying very hard not to get out of bed so he could go break something. “You were friends.”

“The summer after fourth year, he got too close to one and was irritating it with magic—it kicked him in the head before it ran away.”

James snickered. He couldn’t help it.

“I was thinking about that when I got the tattoo. It was after our—our fight. I can afford to give up a little sometimes, to help someone else. I can put up a fence when they take too much or trample me. But now, these days, when they come for me, I can kick back.”

They were quiet, for a minute, while James thought about this.

“Also, it was destiny,” he said, grinning when she thumped him. “We were meant to be together.”

“Still not gonna tell me why a stag?” she said, smiling back. She hadn’t pulled away from him.

“Some other day,” he said, and leaned in.  
  


When he finally blurted out the truth, she yelled at him. Asked him why. Why was he such an idiot, what was he _thinking_ , there were _reasons_ for that law—

“I can’t tell you why.”

Why not, why are you still hiding things from me, we’re supposed to be a team, _James_ —

“I still can’t tell you. It’s not my secret. I told you that.”

She snapped her mouth shut abruptly. And squinted at him.

“Wait,” she said. “Does this have to do with Remus?”

“What? No! Who said anything about Remus, this has nothing to do with—why were you thinking about Remus? What does he have to do with this? I don’t—”

“So it is about him,” said Lily.

James sat down hard on their (old, secondhand, faded, _perfect_ ) sofa. “How long have you known.” It wasn’t a question.

She sat next to him. “A while. It wasn’t hard to put together, once I started paying attention.”

“Crap,” said James. “He doesn’t like people to know.”

“You don’t make It hard, what with the nickname and the furry little problem references.”

James looked at her. “Did you figure that out before or after you knew?”

“After,” Lily admitted.

“There you go. No one puts two and two together and comes up with werewolf.”

“What’s the connection? What does turning into a stag do?”

He told her.

She bit her lip.

“You became an illegal Animagus,” she said, “to help your friend, a werewolf, hurt less during his transformation.”

“Yes?” Was he still in trouble?

“In fifth year,” she said.

“Yes…”

“When you were sixteen, and still hoisting Snape upside down to make fun of him.”

James winced. “I said I was sorry about that…”

Lily shook her head. “I know. That’s not the point." 

“Er—then. What is the point?”

She looked at him for a long, long moment.

“You’re a good man.”

“What? I am? Are you still mad?”

“No one is more surprised than me,” said Lily.

“Um. Thank you? … Are you still mad?”

“Marry me,” said Lily.

James fell off the couch in shock.  
  


After that, the only lie he ever told Lily ever again was that he hadn’t already been planning to propose, and that she just got there first.

Well, no. There was one more. The second lie was that Sirius’s best man speech wasn’t full of deer puns that most of the wedding guests wouldn’t understand.

She forgave him for that one, though. She laughed as hard as he did.

**Author's Note:**

> These fics all take their titles from Simon & Garfunkel songs because Lily is a fan in every universe whether I mention it or not, and for James, everything comes back to Lily eventually.
> 
> Your soundtrack for this fic (songs both referenced and listened to while writing, all released before or during 1976):
> 
> Led Zeppelin - Black Dog  
> Simon and Garfunkel - Mrs. Robinson, Scarborough Fair  
> Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody  
> KISS - 100,000 Years  
> The Beatles - A Hard Day's Night  
> The Allman Brothers - Ramblin' Man  
> The Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop
> 
> Also, protip, if you're wearing a flower crown that sheds dried flowers and you have a friend whose hair eats anything you put in it and who sucks at paying attention to her surroundings, a fun activity is to stealthily drop dried flowers in her hair all day at the RennFest, not that I've ever done this or gave the particular idea to Sirius because of that, and even if I did she thought it was funny so it's fine.


End file.
